


Seeing Stars

by Shimegami



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad shameless smut, Horny teenage exploration, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, No seriously I haven't written porn in ages it's bad, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shimegami/pseuds/Shimegami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying bored in bed on a Friday night leads to interesting decisions.  Haruka embarks on a magical journey of exploration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. I haven't written porn in YEARS I apologize for all suckiness beforehand. Also jesus this took me nearly a month to write because I keep screaming and running away from my computer to roll on the floor in abject mortification.
> 
> Also this fic is why I now have the phrase "how does it feel to be anal fingered" in my search history. Yaoi fanfic, man, it fucks your Google history up.
> 
> Also I apologize for the weird tense changes and how Haruka suddenly turns into Haru about halfway through, you can tell where I gave up writing on it for like a week or two. >_>
> 
> De-anon from the kink meme because that is my life lately.

It was hard not to overhear weird things at school. Normally Haruka didn't care for his peers – the swim club members were tolerable because, well, swimming, and Makoto was of course _Makoto_ and so exempt from Haruka's disdain. He never understood why he should try to get along with his fellow teenagers, anyways – all of their conversations were shallower than a kiddy pool.

“Yeah, I totally tried it, man, and I thought stinging my fingers up my ass would be the fastest boner-killer ever, but it's surprisingly pretty good!”

Like now. Haruka distantly wondered what possessed people to think that talking about their bodily adventures in masturbation was an appropriate conversation subject in public. Granted, the girls were off changing so it was only boys in the room with no adult supervision. So of course all the conversations turned to sex.

“You gotta make sure you have some lotion or Vaseline or something, you should find a safe list of stuff on the net or something. Just get your fingers slick and get them up there, pretty slowly. It feels really weird at first, but it'll get better, and I swear there was this one spot that drove me crazy. Way better than just whacking it off, anyways. Anyways, when I was trying it out, I got hold of this awesome mag, man....”

Doing his best to tune out the conversation, Haruka propped his head up with his head and turned his head to stare out the window again. Makoto had better hurry up and get back from the bathroom, so his soft chatter would drown out all the annoyances. Whatever Makoto talked about was always infinitely better than listening to the drivel of other people.

Huffing a sigh under his breath, Haruka hoped that Makoto got back soon.

* * *

The conversation from that day was promptly forgotten until later that week, when Haruka was lying in his bed listlessly and trying to find something to occupy himself. Makoto had left some little while earlier, and it was quiet in Haruka's house, the only sound the whirring of his fan and the distant ocean waves. Normally in such circumstances he would have been stripping to get into the bath like five minutes ago, but he was feeling strangely sluggish and not especially motivated to move right then, even to get into his beloved water.

As he stared at the ceiling, thoughts idly floating through his head, he vaguely remembered the conversation he'd overheard. It was weird, but for some reason the thought kept jumping into his thoughts. Did it really feel good? Haruka didn't have a lot of interest in sex beyond taking care of basic needs, but he'd looked a few times on the Internet out of curiosity, so he knew that sex between guys usually involved such things. So it had to feel good or people wouldn't do it, right? Was it hard? Was a certain technique required?

The more he tried to ignore his curiosity, the more it rose. Something about it just wouldn't leave his mind, and the questions swirled around in his brain with no answers. Haruka grimaced as he turned onto his side, and the bottle of lotion he kept on his bedside table – which he actually did use for lotion purposes since the amount of time he spent in pools meant that if he didn't moisturize regularly the chlorine turned him into a mummy, but admittedly he'd used it for other purposes too – caught his eyes.

Ah, fuck it. It was a Friday night and he had nothing better to do, and he lived alone anyways. He might as well.

Haruka shifted to sit up, pressing his back against the headboard as he grabbed the lotion bottle of the nightstand and plopped it next to him. He let his eyes fall half-mast as he settled back against the wood of his bed, fingers gently tugging down the hem of his pyjama pants.

Haruka didn't do this very often. Maybe once a month, and usually just to control his hormones so he wouldn't embarrass himself in the pool. It had been a while since he'd last done this, and he let his head fall back with a slight sound as his fingers slipped into his boxers – even he didn't sleep in his jammers, there was just no way to make that comfortable for sleep – and began caressing his quickly-hardening length. It _had_ been a while, he was responding faster than he thought he would.

His eyes drifted shut as he tugged down his boxers with his free hand, pulling both pants and underwear far enough down to free his burgeoning erection. He wrapped his fingers around it, making a soft sound at the jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine.

Haruka normally didn't think of much of anything when he did this, instead just letting the feelings wash over him and letting his mind drift. He was vaguely aware that most people liked having some sort of image, but Haruka had never bothered. For one he had never found appeal in the female body, so the magazines his classmates liked to pass around meant nothing to him, and while male bodies were more pleasing, he wasn't about to use some random pictures of men he couldn't care less about. That just seemed weird.

Besides, it wasn't like he _needed_ to think of anyone. Not like this. With his eyes closed, fingers trailing up and down his cock, it feels just fine. This part isn't important, anyways, it's just an experiment anyways since the idea won't get out of his head and he's curious.

He lets his fingers trace down the vein, back up, and then thumb at the head with a little bit of a twist that makes his hips arch off the bed a bit. He does wonder what it would be like if it was someone else's fingers, though, ones that he wasn't controlling and therefore would probably feel different. Maybe a little bigger...longer ones that could wrap around his length and pump him hard, maybe twist a little rougher than he's used to.

A soft little moan escapes his lips, the fantasy does make it a little better. He grabs the lotion bottle and squirts some in his hand, slicking it up as he wraps his hand back around his erection and begins stroking it in earnest. Yes, bigger hands would be better, able to cover more of him and go faster, maybe with a bit of callouses like his own hands to create texture. The thought shivers down his spine.

He's really hard, now, harder than he's been in a while. He can almost feel his heartbeat pulse in his dick as he pumps it, hips jerking up to meet the rhythm of his hand. Small noises are getting stuck in his throat with each stroke, and he has to forcibly pull his hand off before he comes all over himself. That defeats the purpose. A whimper builds in his throat, and Haru squirms slightly to keep his hand from going back and finishing the job.

Haru shifts, sliding down the headboard to lay fully on the bed as he shimmies his boxers down his legs and kicks them off to land somewhere in his room. He'll pick them later. Now he grabs the lotion bottle, squirting a generous amount into his hand and coating his fingers.

Haru hesitates, biting at his lip. What's the best way to approach this? No matter how good it feels, he's still sticking his fingers up his ass. There's got to be some technique to it, but he has no idea and this was a spur of the moment thing so he's never looked it up.

Well, first things first, he has to reach down there.

After some shifting around, he's found the best position is on his back with his legs pulled up to his chest, like a reverse turtle float only more spread out. It's really rather awkward, but he's too hard to bother caring and it's not like anyone's going to see him like this, so it's fine.

He gnaws on his lip as he gently probes around, feeling around the entrance with trepidation. Now that he's actually doing it, he feels a little nervous. Also his forearm brushing against his erection is all kinds of distracting, and he has to use his free arm to hold up his legs so that they don't fall back down as he twitches and jerks every time he accidentally brushes against himself, his back wanting to arch.

Well, he certainly can't say that this way is _boring_ , that's for sure.

Taking a deep breath, Haru forces himself to relax, closing his eyes and letting his muscles soften from their tense state. Being all tense isn't going to help anything. He takes another breath, and another, before slowly sliding his index finger into himself.

It's very weird, and he almost jerks his hand back out from the sensation, but it doesn't actually hurt. He can feel a bit of stretching, though, that tells him that he needs to go slowly for anything bigger, like more fingers. He has to get used to this one first or it _will_ hurt.

Haru stays in that position for a moment, concentrating on his breathing and making sure he doesn't tense up again. Harder than it sounds, since every breath nudges his dick against his arm and that's driving him crazy.

Still, as he slowly relaxes again, he has to admit that so far, this isn't bad. Weird, but not bad. It's not _pleasurable_ yet, though, and he needs to fix that. He takes yet another breath to steady himself, and curls his finger.

The sensation is immediate and he jerks involuntarily, almost causing his finger to pull out. It's almost like being tickled or whenever someone touches him in a place he's not used to being touched, like the back of his knee or his ears or something. Nothing ever touches down there, after all, especially not inside, and his knee-jerk reaction is to keep it untouched. That would defeat the purpose of doing this, though.

And, it wasn't _bad_.

Another breath, and he slowly wiggles his finger again. This time he moans slightly, because the weird feeling is slowly turning into something that's sending tingles up his spine. Maybe it is just sensitivity from never being touched there, but whatever it is it makes his toes curl as he works his finger around, stroking his insides, each brush of his fingertip sending a pulse through his erection.

His breathing rhythm has been lost now, and he's a panting a little bit. Okay, he's starting to see why people bother doing this, and bother telling others about it because he'd never would have done this on his own which is regrettable because it feels pretty good. His eyes drift shut as he starts rubbing harder, pulling his finger in and out slowly to get some friction.

Still, it doesn't feel like quite enough, and he feels a little impatient. He needs _more_. So, making sure it's still slick with lotion, he slowly starts to add his middle finger to the mix.

A second finger is a lot more uncomfortable, and Haru has to force himself back into the steady breathing rhythm to relax himself. Still, that's not enough to stop – no, Haru thinks, it actually kind of adds to the experience. It drags him a bit out of the haze of pleasure, prolonging it and making it all the better when it overtakes him again. Yeah, he definitely thinks he likes this.

It takes longer to get used to the second finger, to scissor his fingers a bit as he slowly stretches himself and tries not to hurt himself. He keeps up the gentle in-out rhythm, letting the lotion soften things up. Finally, with a small shudder, he feels the muscles relax and accept the extra finger, and he resumes his exploratory rubbing, fingers curling every so often.

When he shoves them in as far as they go and curls them, his middle finger is longer and that's when he finds _it_. The “drives you crazy” spot he vaguely remembers the guy from his class talking about, but he can't be bothered with remembering more clearly because it's like someone's whitewashed his brain with pleasure. His back arches and his head falls limply against his pillow and he's vaguely aware that his mouth is hanging open and he's making some sort of keening-gasping-needy-sounding moan that he would be completely mortified about letting out of his mouth if he could care at this moment, but he can't because _oh_.

Yes, this is why people do this, he distantly realizes.

His back won't stop arching, and it's making it hard to reach that spot again, so with a growl he rolls over, getting onto his elbows – well, elbow – and knees. This keeps him in roughly the same position, but his legs now can't fall down now. He readjusts his fingers and searches for that spot again. It takes a moment, and he thinks maybe he's lost it, but then his middle finger brushes up against it again and he can't help the moan that escapes his lips. Yes, right there.

He keeps rubbing at it, body twitching and alternately trying to get closer and squirm away from the mind-numbing pleasure. He's buried his face in his pillow in a last act of shame, trying to muffle the needy moans and gasps he's making. He's never been very vocal before but it's like this spot isn't just a pleasure button, it's also a button that tears any control over his voice he has away and every brush against it makes a new noise rise up from within him. It's embarrassing, writhing and moaning like some adult video actor, but it feels too good to stop, too good to care.

Still, there's...something missing. Haru has long fingers, but they're slim and not quite long enough. He feels like he's just brushing the surface, like he could feel _more_ if he could just _reach_ , but no amount of squirming gets his fingers quite deep enough.

His mind flashes to earlier, his little imagine spot about bigger hands. Bigger hands would be nice here, too, with fingers long enough to completely abuse the spot and thicker, enough to make him feel full because he doesn't right now. He needs hands like that...hands like Makoto's, he suddenly realizes. Makoto has those kinds of hands.

His breath hitches as suddenly an image of his best friend flashes through his mind. If it was Makoto doing this...Makoto sitting on the bed behind him, fingers up Haru's ass and sweet voice probably murmuring things like “Does it feel good, Haru?” because Makoto would be the type of lover to make sure that his partner is feeling the absolute height of pleasure before he bothered with himself.

He gasps as the image in his mind causes pleasure to shoot like lightning straight to his dick, and he almost comes right there. He's never imagined anyone like this, let alone someone specific and even less his best friend, but now the image is in his head and it's like the world falls away as he loses himself to the fantasy, rocking against his fingers as he gasps, picturing them as Makoto's long tanned ones. He barely notices as a third finger works its way in, the discomfort just another tinge of feeling to add to the sensations that are blinding his brain.

Makoto would lean over him, probably, putting that huge frame of his to use as he whispered into Haru's ear as he moved his fingers inside Haru, well-toned chest pressed all along Haru's back, hard and heavy and hot. He would be slow, more gentle than teasing but that gentle softness would be almost the same as teasing, brushing against the spot with butterfly softness. He'd probably laugh that little laugh of his too when Haru gasps, shudders, pressing a kiss to wherever is under his mouth. So soft, so gentle, it would be infuriating, and Haru finds himself begging, pleading, the sounds tumbling out of his mouth and making no sense beyond “please, more, harder, _there_ ” and he can't bring himself to care.

Then Makoto would laugh again, his voice as sweet as always but probably lower, breathier, as he says “Whatever you want, Haru” and presses _harder_ \--

“...Makoto...!” The fantasy rips the name out of Haru's throat, exploding into the air as he comes, vision washing white with pleasure. He literally feels like he blacks out a moment, every muscle in his body becoming rock-hard as he comes harder than he ever has, then those same muscles immediately flow from solid to liquid as he loses all control over his own body and flops bonelessly down onto the bed, panting hard.

Okay. Yeah. Now he sees why people do this, why they imagine other people during this, this was the best orgasm he's ever had. It takes a few moments for his vision to return from a blurry, starred-out mess when he gains the energy to open his eyes.

And that's when Makoto opens the door to his room.

“Hey, Haru, I forgot something here so I came back, and I heard you calling my name, is everything o...kay....”

Haru can only stare at Makoto blankly as the other trails off, staring wide-eyed and mouth hanging open a bit from where he hadn't managed to close it from talking.

Haru is too shocked for embarrassment. All he can think of is how he must look right now, naked and curled up on his bed with incriminatingly-stained sheets and his fingers still up his ass. It's so, so obvious what he'd been doing. And it's also very obvious that he'd been calling out Makoto's name doing this.

Oh. There. There's the embarrassment. Haru feels it return with a vengeance and it makes him burn a bright red from his chest to the top of his head.

Makoto keeps _staring_ at him, and Haru can't bring himself to look away no matter how bright red his face is. Vaguely he wonders is he's broken Makoto. That thought causes a barrage of others. What if Makoto is grossed out? What if Haru's misread their closeness all these years and Makoto can't accept this? What if this drives Makoto away?

What if Makoto _can_ accept this? What if Makoto likes it?

That gives him enough motivation to turn his head, tearing his gaze away from Makoto and hiding his face in the pillow. It's probably not hiding anything, what with his ears as bright red as the rest of him that's on full display for Makoto to see, but it makes him feel better. Right, his fingers. He tries to pull them out as unobtrusively as possible and hopes Makoto's not focusing on that.

The silence hangs in the air, a physical thing, and Haruka turns his head a bit to look at Makoto out of the corner of his eye.

For some reason, this movement is the one that catches Makoto's attention, the one that reboots his brain, and he can see the exact moment reason returns to Makoto when the other blushes, going a deep red that surely the same shade as Haru's own face.

“I...u-um...sorry! S-Sorry. I'll...get you a towel. Yeah.” Makoto is out of the room in a flash, and Haru slumps further into his bed, grabbing at his pillow and shoving his face harder into it. He wonders if he can end this horrible awkwardness by suffocating himself.

Normally Haruka doesn't care about things like shame – he was who he was and he didn't need to be embarrassed for his own actions and choices. However, even he realizes that masturbating to your best friend and having him walk in on you afterwards was something to be ashamed of. He couldn't even have told Makoto about his desires directly, because he'd never thought about Makoto like this before but just one fantasy and the floodgates opened. Everything is _awkward_ now. This isn't best friend territory, it's something new, and Haruka doesn't know what to do except feel embarrassed.

Makoto comes back with a towel, gaze firmly fixed to the floor as he walks over and holds it out. “U-Um...here you go, Haru-chan!”

Slowly Haru sits up and reaches out to take the towel. It's thoughtfully damp with warm water, because even extremely-embarrassed Makoto doesn't lose his considerate nature.

“I...I'll just...get going now. With the thing I forgot. U-Um. S-Sorry to bother you, Haru!!” Makoto turns to leave, and Haru wonders at the stiffness of his tone and body. As he thought, Makoto hadn't liked this...

Then he notices that Makoto is rigidly holding one of his arms in front of himself, just hanging straight down in an awkward way that no human naturally does. It's like Makoto is trying to hide something.

Oh. _Oh_. Well.

Before he can think about Haruka reaches out and latches onto Makoto's wrist that had been hanging in front of his crotch, jerking Makoto to halt from leaving and, in the process, revealing what he'd been hiding. Makoto gives him a startled, panicked look, before looking away and going bright red again. It's obvious, from the way his pants are tented, that Makoto was the exact opposite of “not liking it”. Well then.

Haru licks his lips. He's unsure, and he doesn't know what to do, but he suddenly feels that it's okay because they can work it out together. He looks up at Makoto through his eyelashes.

“...Why don't you stay a little longer, Makoto?”

Makoto goes even redder and doesn't resist when Haruka tugs on his arm to bring him closer, and that's all the answer Haru needs.

They'll work it out somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not add a proper MakoHaru chapter if I can ever bring myself to stop crying into my pillow over how hard it is to write porn.
> 
> Seriously. It's terrible.


End file.
